BEFORE YOU READ, YOU MIGHT WANT A FEW THINGS CLEARED UP.

First of all, I'm writing under the pretense that it is an ordinary year at Hogwarts. I know that by the fifth book, Voldemort is a huge concern, and Umbridge takes over the school, and Sirius can't leave the house, and blah blah blah. However, just assume that this is a REGULAR year for Harry. FYI, he's fifteen. Also, I do have the correct players on the team written into the story. So, Jimmy and Ritchie are quidditch teammates.

Secondly, in this story, the ministry has decided that quidditch players must have a physical before they can play. I don't know if this is actually called something else in the UK, as I don't currently live there (maybe someday), and am not up to date with the lingo.

I know that there are probably a few things that don't make sense, timeline-wise, but please, just go along with it. I'll try to have as little of those as possible.

Without further ado…

Invincible

"This is rubbish." Ron complained to Harry from a chair across from him. "You didn't have to do this last year."

Harry nodded, unable to speak. He stared down at his hands, willing them not to shake. It was just a physical. A simple physical. So what if it could undermine his entire life? So what if it could uncover some nasty truths that he had been trying to keep hidden? Sweat broke out on Harry's forehead, and he wiped it off hastily.

"Nervous, mate?" Ron asked, looking intently at his friend.

"I don't much like hospitals." Harry admitted tightly. He set his head down on his forcefully entwined fingers, his leg bouncing with nerves.

Jimmy looked over at the two from a couple of seats over, next to Ritchie. "Me neither!" He offered good naturedly. "Me gram passed in one o' these places." He looked around nervously.

"Thanks, Jimmy." Harry snapped. "That's really going to help."

Jimmy shrugged, and leaned back, immersing back into his conversation with Ritchie.

Katie Bell leaned over from her seat next to Hermione Granger, who had come along for "moral support". In reality, Harry suspected Hermione just wanted another look at the eccentric St. Mungo's.

"Don't worry, Harry." Katie whispered. "I've had a few of these before." She rolled her eyes. "My parents are such worriers. There's nothing to it."

Harry nodded, fixing his gaze again on the floor. Hermione, who had been examining a brochure from the hospital with a rapt interested, looked at him in sympathy.

"If it helps," She offered. "this place is kind of scaring me, too." She looked around the room, at all the wizards and witches, the odd floating lights, and quills filling out paperwork by themselves. "I've only really been to muggle hospitals." Hermione whispered. She smiled weakly. "And I'm not even here for the physical."

Harry smiled stiffly, still looking anxious. Hermione frowned in concern, and gently grasped one of his hands, entwining her fingers with his. Harry looked at her gratefully, thankful for any assurance of steadiness by his friends. He looked up at Ron doubtfully, expecting a jealous look, but receiving only a nod of encouragement. He shifted for a moment, and a sharp pain from his sore shoulder ceased his movement. What if they found the injury? What if they discovered how it had occurred?

Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to dispel his rising panic. He focused on Hermione's strong grip, and the rhythm of his breathing, and the slight sound of shoes on the floor as witches and wizards walked back and forth through the halls, back and forth, back and forth, back and-

"Harry?" A kind nursing witch called. Harry's head jerked up, his hand tightened around Hermione's in a reflexive motion. He forced himself to relax, to release her hand, to stand up.

Ron and Hermione stood with him, and he was grateful, but he forced himself to shake his head. "They only allow family, right?" He whispered, cursing himself for his weak voice. Katie Bell smiled up at him empathetically, and nodded her head slightly. Reluctantly, Hermione and Ron sat back down, watching him leave with worried expressions.

Harry fought his fear as he walked toward the smiling witch. She waved her wand, and the door stayed open for him to pass through. She led him past a desk with another smiling witch, and into a hallway lined with closed doors, the floating lights outside of them indicating whether they were occupied or not. She had him pause next to the nurse's station. He stepped onto a metal plate, and the witch tapped him lightly with her wand.

Harry felt the hairs on his head start to rise, and his feet rose off of the metal plate about a foot. Harry craned his neck to see behind him if there was some kind of measurement behind him, weight or height or otherwise, but he saw nothing. However, the quill floating next to the pair jotted something down on the parchment, and the nurse frowned slightly.

"Right in here, hon." A door on the right opened on it's own, and Harry stepped through cautiously. He noted a floating cot on the right, and a cupboard full of magical potions and supplies.

The nurse seated him on the cot, and asked for his hand. He extended it gingerly, and she was just pressing the tip of her wand against it when the door opened again. Harry stood up in shock.

"S-." Harry stopped himself with a quick glance at the nurse. He stared at his godfather, hardly believing that he was there, when Sirius took a step forward, gently pulling Harry into an embrace.

"It's alright." Sirius assured him. "She knows. She's with the Order."

"I just got the news." He said sincerely. "I got here as soon as I could." He smiled slyly. "You didn't think I would leave my godson here to face the wrath of the healers without me, did you?"

Harry smiled, feigning relief, but felt dread. To some degree, he was happy to see his godfather - he was always happy to see Sirius - but at the same time, Harry had an ominous feeling that many things were going to come to light, and he didn't want his godfather here when they did.

"I can stay here with my godson, can't I?" Sirius asked the kind witch. She smiled, and nodded.

"Of course." She agreed. She cast a sympathetic glance at Harry. "You are technically his only wizarding family left."

Harry fixed his eyes on the floor, avoiding eye contact. Sirius placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hon, if you could give me your hand…" Harry again extended his hand, and the nurse placed the tip of her wand on the thin skin of his inside wrist. She held it there for a few moments, and then nodded, unsmiling, while the quill jotted down some more notes.

"Stand for a moment?" She asked, and Harry stood up complacently. She placed her wand on his nose, and an odd hum ran throughout his entire body. She removed her wand, and the quill noted something else.

"What's that?" Sirius asked curiously.

The nurse smiled. "It's our newly improved diagnostics spell. We use it when we're giving a large group of people physicals, as it saves time. Sometimes it isn't as accurate, however."

Harry felt a genuine flash of relief. If it wasn't as accurate, then there was a chance he could defend his secret a little longer. Even if it did pick up a slight problem, he could excuse himself by blaming the spell.

Sirius nodded. "What if the spell picked up a problem?"

"We usually investigate a little, to figure out if it was a legitimate problem, or a glitch with the spell." The nurse explained. She smiled tightly once more at the two, and then stepped out of the small office.

"That will be all for now." The nurse said. "The healer with be with you shortly."

Harry felt a flash of panic. As the nurse left, he turned frantically to Sirius. "Why?" He asked, frenzied. "What's wrong?"

Sirius stood, frowning in concern. "Nothing, my boy." He said soothingly. "They just want a healer to take a quick look at you before you can be cleared for the quidditch team. Nothing to worry about, alright?"

Harry took a deep breath. Calm down. He ordered himself. Sirius will notice something is wrong.

"Your friends told me you were a little...pent up." Sirius commented. "What's got you so worried?"

Harry shook his head. "...Neville's parents...Lockheart…I don't like being where it all...where they…"

Sirius sighed. "Of course." He sounded almost relieved. "I should have known." Harry felt sick for lying to his godfather. Sirius gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, and Harry felt himself nearly shudder, but he restrained himself. This is Sirius, He reminded himself. He would never hurt me. Sirius's hand grasped his injured shoulder tightly, and Harry bit his tongue to keep from making a noise. Not on purpose, anyway.

"They're almost done, Harry." Sirius assured him. "Then you can go back to Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. He held that thought tightly in his mind. I can go back to Hogwarts. He clung to it desperately, willing himself to get through the next few minutes, half an hour at most. Just get through this, and then go home.

The door opened again, and a wizard in white robes walked into the room, along with the first nurse. The healer smiled reassuringly at Harry, but he couldn't find anything reassuring about the situation.

"My name is Healer Calstrom." He introduced himself. "Before we begin, could I take your temperature?" The healer gently asked Harry. He shot a confused glance at Sirius at the tone, which was very soft, and nodded.

"Thank you." The healer smiled calmly, but Harry's heart pounded loudly.

He knows. Harry thought desperately. He knows.

"Harry?" Sirius looked at his godson with apprehension. "Are you alright?"

Harry fought to control his rising hysteria, and clenched his hands shut tight to ground himself. The pinching from his nails digging into his skin helped center him, and he gave a shaky nod. Sirius placed an arm around Harry's shoulders, and looked up at Healer Calstrom in perplexion. He shrugged, relying on Harry's explanation of his fear of St. Mungo's. Relying that Harry was speaking the truth when he said he didn't like to remember what had happened. Inwardly, Harry chuckled darkly. He didn't know the half of it.

"Here, Harry." The healer stepped forward and handed over a seemingly normal thermometer, except when Harry grabbed it, he felt a prick on his finger. Startled, he dropped the object, but the healer quickly muttered a spell and levitated it back up to him before it hit the floor.

"Sorry about that." Healer Calstrom said evenly, with another kind smile. "That's the only surprise, I promise."

The nurse kindly wrapped up his finger after pouring a fast healing potion over it, and Harry placed the thermometer in his mouth, right under his tongue. He waited tensely, and he saw the end of the thermometer gradually changing color. He watched as it changed from a green to yellow, and then to a deep orange. Though he didn't understand much about wizard medicine, he knew enough about colors to know that orange usually wasn't on the good side of the health scale.

Healer Calstrom took the thermometer from him, and handed it to the nurse, who stepped outside, closing the door softly behind her. Healer Calstrom stepped forward, and asked Harry to extend his arm. He complied, and the healer Gently pressed his wand against the crook of his elbow. After a moment, he stepped back, and nodded to himself, while the quill in the corner jotted away.

Healer Calstrom walked around Harry, occasionally making casual conversation as he checked him over. Throughout everything, Harry remained tense, speaking only when necessary. Finally, the healer stepped out of the room, and Harry glanced at the clock on the wall.

It seemed almost ordinary, except that it wasn't really attached to the wall, and the numbers and hands weren't connected to each other. Nonetheless, Harry saw that he had been in that room for over half an hour. Much longer than he had hoped to be.

Ron anxiously glanced at the door that his friend that walked through. Ron's physical had taken less than ten minutes, why was Harry's taking so long? Most of the kids had returned with Professor McGonagall when she came to collect the kids. However, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had chosen to stay.

George and Fred had even appeared, saying they had to hear what the healers had to say about Ron's skinny physique. Now, the only professor still at the hospital was Severus Snape, much to the kids surprise. They had assumed that he would be the first to leave. Unfortunately, he hung around. Apparently, he was to escort the students back to the castle.

Hermione held Ron's hand, as she too stared anxiously at the door, willing Harry to appear. At first, there had been joking and laughter, with the Weasley twins spinning ridiculous stories of how Harry was probably getting fawned over by adoring nurses, and crazed healers.

"Of course he's taking longer than the rest of us." They joked. "He's Harry Bloody Potter. Anything involving him's a big deal."

However, as time went on, the twins became as concerned as the rest, until they all were simply sitting in a worried, tense silence.

"Please, Harry." Hermione whispered, probably only to herself. Ron found himself repeating her words. Please, Harry. Please, Harry. Please, Harry. They seemed to sum up everything that he was hoping for.

Please don't have to quit quidditch.

Please be okay.

Please come back.

Healer Calstrom and the nurse returned, and something about their expressions sent Harry's heart pounding away like a jackhammer.

"There are some things we'd like to go over." Healer Calstrom said smoothly. "Not a problem, merely some concerns."

Harry felt his hands begin to shake. Sirius's comforting arm tightened around his shoulders.

"First of all, Harry is well below the average weight for a student of his age and stature." Healer Calstrom began. With that first revelation, Sirius seemed shocked.

"How below?" He asked.

"Enough to see the effects of malnutrition." Healer Calstrom said, attempting to break the news gently.

Sirius shut his eyes for a moment. "Harry." He began. "Have you been eating enough?"

Harry nodded helplessly, knowing they wouldn't believe. His brain frantically searched for an excuse, for some story they would buy. Anything but the truth. Anything but the embarrassing, shameful truth.

"We don't think this is a recent development." Said Healer Calstrom. "It seems that he has been eating fine for since he's been in school, about a week, but before then…"

Sirius fixed a steely gaze at his godson. "When you were at the Dursleys." He didn't need Harry to admit to it, Sirius knew where Harry went for the summers.

"Were they feeding you enough?" Sirius asked sternly.

Harry nodded numbly. "Their food just sucks." He deadpanned, hoping to hide the lies. "So I didn't eat a whole lot of it."

Healer Calstrom obviously didn't buy it, but he didn't push any more. "In addition, Harry has a slight fever, and his pulse is minimally irregular." Seeing Sirius's shocked expression, he corrected himself. "However, these could also be effects from the malnutrition as well."

Sirius sighed. "Is there anything else?"

Healer Calstrom took a seat on one of the chairs in the room, but the nurse stayed standing near the door. Almost guarding it. Harry's panicked mind thought.

"There is enough evidence to suggest that Harry has been largely abused, for some time." The healer broke gently. Sirius's eyes widened in alarm, and Harry felt a flash of terror, but he kept it from his face.

"How badly were...are his injuries?" Sirius asked. The arm wrapped around Harry began to feel less like a comfort, and more like a vice. His afflicted shoulder was aching deeply, but Harry merely clenched his tongue tighter with his teeth. The sharp taste of copper and blood filled his mouth.

"Up to ten percent of his surface skin is made up of some kind of scar tissue, and there is evidence of multiple bone breaks and fractures, many of which didn't heal properly." Healer Calstrom said, studying the faces of Sirius and Harry carefully.

"Harry," Sirius turned to his godson, trapping him in a desperate gaze. "How did this happen?"

Harry stood quickly, shaking off his godfather's arm. He crossed his arms, though the action jostled his throbbing shoulder, and glared at the three adults.

"It doesn't matter." He denied, his heart pounding loudly. Sirius stood up slowly, his face looking aged since he walked into the room ten minutes ago.

"Of course it matters, Harry." Sirius said, almost tearfully. "Who could have done this to you? You were at your uncle's all summer…" His expression hardened when he saw the fear cross Harry's face at the mention of his uncle.

"No." Sirius shook his head. "NO. Tell me he hasn't been hurting you...all summer...and you never told anyone?"

Harry tried to hold his eyes, but he couldn't, and he looked toward the floor, shame coursing through him. Sirius knew. He knew, and there was no way he could un-know.

Sirius reached toward him, but Harry jerked back, and Sirius faltered. "Why didn't you...tell anyone?" He whispered.

Harry didn't respond. This was his fault. This was supposed to stay a secret. No one was supposed to know. No one was supposed to find out. Uncle Vernon told him not to let anyone find out…

Harry's hands were shaking, and his breath came unsteadily. He looked at the three adults in front of him, their faces all a mix of pity, worry, and sadness. He felt anger combine with the fear that already rested there, because none of them were looking at him like he was himself. They stared, like he was...like he had been… His thoughts mixed in a confusing swirl, and he found the floor swaying unsteadily under his feet as he fought to get enough air.

"Harry," Sirius called to him gently. "Come here, boy."

Harry shook his head in denial, tears blinding him for a moment. Everything was falling apart. The room was too small, and his hands were shaking, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. Sirius kept looking at him like he was a kicked puppy, like there was something wrong with him.

"Stop looking at me like that." Harry whispered. "There's nothing wrong with me. Stop looking at me like that." He stumbled, hyperventilating, and saw Sirius lunge forward to catch him.

As Sirius wrapped his arms around him, Harry lunged forward, desperate for some air. The nurse moved to intercept him, but he shoved past her, pushing the door open with a BANG. He sprinted from the room, the shouts of his godfather ringing in his ears.

Hermione waited nervously. Ron dozed lightly in the chair next to hers, but Ginny was awake, and watching the door with wide eyes. Hermione looked over at her, and offered a slight smile, one that Ginny barely returned. Fred and George were leaning close, locked in some sort of conversation. Every once in a while, one of them would glance at the door hopefully, as though they, too, were yearning for Harry to appear.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Hermione jumped to her feet, relief coursing through her. "Harry!" She called, and Ron started awake.

As quickly as it had come, her relief drained away. The person standing before her wasn't her friend. He couldn't be. He was shaky, his face pale and sweaty, and there was a wild look to his eye that frightened Hermione.

"Harry?" She called cautiously. "Are you alright?"

He backed away with the look of a cornered animal. "S-stay away from me." He said uncertainly, and Ron stood up next to her, confusion written on his face as well.

Ron stared at his best friend in bafflement. "Harry?"

Harry spun away from his friends, and ran towards the exit. He could hear Sirius running down the hall from which he just came, with the healer and the nurse with him. He only had to leave this floor, and then it would be a simple task to get lost in the sprawling magical building. It would be harder to stay hidden, but that was a problem for later consideration. As Harry neared the exit, a figure in black crossed in front of him.

"Not so fast, Mr. Potter." Snape drawled, blocking his exit. He extended a hand to block the door, barring Harry's escape.

Harry tried to dodge under his arm, but Snape gripped the back of his long sleeved t-shirt. He pulled him back, while Harry twisted frantically. He reached up, and tried to pry Snape's fingers off his shirt, but the fabric was caught in an iron grip.

"Let go of me." Harry snarled. Realizing his escape attempt was failing, he lashed out with his hands toward Snape's face, and Snape quickly gripped Harry's wrists with his free hand, and pinned him to the wall, hands above his head.

"You need to calm down." Snape droned, leaning close to Harry. To Harry, however, the exchange felt anything but calming, and he angrily struggled to get free.

Feeling restricted, Harry thrashed away from Snape, aching for freedom. His shoulder felt inflamed, the strange position pulling at the not-yet-healed muscle and bone. Small flashbacks of being pinned against the wall by his uncle pulled at him.

"NO!" He gasped, thrashing wildly. "Get off! Let me go!"

He heard the voices of his friends echoing out behind Snape.

"Let go of him!"

"Stop it, you're hurting him!"

Harry struggled futilely, forcing his way off of the wall a few inches. Snape shoved him back, and Harry's head cracked against the wall. Harry went limp as stars burst in front of his eyes.

"You stupid boy." Uncle Vernon gripped the front of Harry's shirt. He slammed him against the wall, and Harry's head banged against the hard plaster. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

His breath stank of beer, and his voice slurred slightly. The booze smell made Harry's head spin. A harsh hand slapped across his face.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He shouted. Harry tried to focus on his face, but his mind kept slipping back to Hogwarts, his friends, his teachers…

CRACK! Uncle Vernon's hand smacked him again, and Harry tasted blood. Disgusted, Uncle Vernon dropped him to the ground, and took a step back, removing his belt.

"I always knew there was somethin' wrong with you." Uncle Vernon growled. "Petunia was hoping you'd turn out normal, but I knew…"

Harry turned his face to the wall, not watching as Uncle Vernon drew back the belt, preparing to swing it down sharply, and begin with the agony that was becoming Harry's everyday routine.

Harry gasped awake. He could only make out blurry shapes and figures above him, their origin was lost to him. His glasses must have gotten knocked off of his face. He could hear their voices, though their appearances were far beyond his capabilities at the moment.

"What happened?" Sirius asked angrily.

"Snape threw him against a wall!" Fred (or George, Harry couldn't be sure) shouted, their voice adding a new shrilling ring to the bells clanging in Harry's head. He moaned, unwillingly drawing attention to himself.

"Just lie still, Harry." Hermione urged him gently. "Everything will be okay, you just need to be still, okay?" Her voice sounded tearful, and fragile.

"No…" Harry moaned. "Leave me alone...stop...don't touch me!" he growled, resisting the hands that were attempting to hold him down.

"Please, Harry, just relax." Hermione begged. "I promise you're safe here."

"Step aside, girl." Snape's silky voice ordered smoothly. Hermione refused, snapping angrily at the professor. In the back of his mind, Harry pondered that this was one of the few times that Hermione had yelled at a teacher.

It seemed that Snape won their argument, and knelt by Harry's head. A sneer curled his lip, and he sighed, as though he would rather be anywhere but here, dealing with his.

Good. Harry thought spitefully. I wish you were anywhere but here.

Someone sobbed nearby; it sounded like Ginny. Harry felt a pang of remorse for hurting her, and the urge to get away grew stronger. If he just left, created some distance between him and these people, he would stop hurting them. And they would stop hurting him.

NO. Harry growled to himself. It was the Dursleys that hurt him, not these people. These people were his friends. However, panic was building up in his chest, and friend quickly became foe. The hands restraining him changed from comforting to threatening. Harry thrashed with newly addressed energy supplied by adrenaline induced fear, and he heard someone shout for help.

He felt someone tip his head up for a moment, and a cool liquid washed down his throat. He choked, almost breathing it in, but most of it made it into his system. It had nearly the same taste as cold medicine, and left a bitter aftertaste. Almost immediately, he went limp, whatever he had been given promptly encouraging sleep.

"It's fine." Harry heard Snape say to those who raised protests. "It's only a Sleeping Draught." He snapped. "At least now he'll quit flailing around like a fish and let the healers do their work."

Harry felt the potion drag him down, as though he was literally slipping down a drain, rocking further and further from the surface, dragging his consciousness into a deep, deep slumber.

Hermione stared in horror at Harry. Now, he lay still, where before he had been shouting, and convulsing near to the point where people were forced to hold him down, try to calm him.

Healer Calstrom kneeled by Harry's head, murmuring softly to some of the other healers next to him. They nodded amongst themselves, conferring quietly. One of them waved a wand, and a stretcher materialized next to the group, lowering enough for them to gently move Harry onto it. They secured the restraints, which sickened Hermione, and again talked quietly to each other.

"Bloody hell…" Ron said, mimmicking her own thoughts. She smiled lightly, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, god, Ron." She spun around, and surprised herself by near collapsing in his arms. Stunned, Ron stepped back in shock, before easing down into a chair, holding Hermione. She cried softly, shoulders shaking. Ron placed a careful hand on her back, and rested his head on top of hers.

"It's okay, Hermione." Ron soothed her. "Harry's strong. If anyone can get through this, he can."

Harry felt himself wake up, but he felt too peaceful and rested to open his eyes. He couldn't believe he had been allowed to sleep so late. Normally Aunt Petunia woke him early, so that Uncle Vernon could see him hard at work before he left. Usually, if Uncle Vernon saw him working, the beating wasn't as harsh later.

Wait, He realized. I got to school. So why hadn't he been woken for class? Something was off, but the sheets were warm, and the mattress was comfortable, and Harry didn't want to figure it out. He frowned in confusion. The beds were never this comfortable at school. The blankets weren't as heavy...A horrible thought occurred to him. What if I'm not at Hogwarts?

Harry's eyes shot open. The room around him was dark, and large, though he could see that the distant hallway outside was brightly lit. He couldn't see much detail about the room around him, only that there were sounds of heavy breathing and snoring coming from all sides. There were others in the room.

Gradually, Harry sat up, noting the sling that his right arm was fixed in. Looking down at his arms, he saw the long white sleeves of a plain shirt. Harry swung back the covers, and saw white pants. He made out a small table attached to the top right inside corner of his bed. He reached over, and felt his glasses, which he gratefully pulled on.

I'm still at St. Mungo's. He realized. Just then, something on his wrist caught his eye. A plastic bracelet circled his left wrist. His name, and some other words and gibberish. I'm a patient.

Harry felt a flash of panic. He had to find Sirius. Or anyone. Mostly, he felt the strong urge to run. That's what he had always done at the Dursleys, when things got bad. Don't ask for help, you don't want your friends to see you like this. Don't fight back, you won't win. Don't hide, they'll find you eventually. Run, because that's all you can do. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, and felt odd tingles run up his body, sapping his strength almost instantly.

His muscles began to fail him, and he felt himself dropping back onto the bed. Harry struggled to remain upright, fighting whatever spell possessed him. The door to the large cavernous room opened, and his nurse walked in. Vaguely, Harry wondered if the spell also functioned to alert staff of those trying to make a break for it. However, It was the same nurse from before, and her face was still as kind and open.

She crossed to his side quickly, her footsteps echoing, and placed a hand on his shoulder, as he fought to stay sitting up. "Harry, just lay down." She ordered. Gently, she pressed on his uninjured shoulder, and that small pressure was enough to send him gasping back onto the bedspread.

"Where…?" He slurred, as whatever spell was affecting him was beginning to pull him into unconsciousness.

"Still at St. Mungo's, dear." She said, kindly pulling the covers over him. He tried to speak again, but she shushed him. "Try to sleep, Harry. We've placed the Argararius [A/N: (pronunciation) Arr-gah-RARE-ree-us] Charm around your bed, to keep you from running off." She smiled, gently brushing his hair off of his forehead. "We do that with all the flight risks here."

"Please…" Harry pleaded, fighting to stay awake, not ready to succumb to whatever nightmare would claim him this time.

"It's alright, Harry." The nurse held up a paper cup in her hand. She lifted his head, and eased the cup's contents into his mouth. He had no choice but to swallow. "This is just a bit of Sleeping Draught. It will help you have a peaceful sleep." As Harry's eyes drifted shut, she spoke more words of comfort, to let him know that she was there.

Finally, she let his head drop softly onto the pillows, and she smoothed over his hair. Nurse Abbot had a daughter of her own, actually in Harry's year at Hogwarts. Heavens knows what she would do to protect her own child, and she tried to convey that feeling to each and every one of her charges. That included this clearly damaged and distraught boy. The fact that he was famous didn't faze her in the least. Perhaps that was why Healer Calstrom had chosen her to be his assistant with Harry's case.

"Poor boy." Nurse Abbot murmured, holding his hand for a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze. In sleep, he looked so much younger, so much more peaceful. Nurse Abbot had heard from her daughter about all the things that Harry had faced since coming to Hogwarts, all leading up to the Triwizard Tournament, where he had witnessed a close schoolmate murdered, supposedly by You-Know-Who himself. Nurse Abbot shuddered.

"Poor boy." She whispered again, before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.

Ron stared dismally at his breakfast, his appetite lost since the day before. He shifted the food around some, but didn't touch any of it.

Hermione glanced at his plate in concern. "You should eat something." She urged quietly. "We don't want to be starving when we visit Harry later."

Ron shoved his plate away, placing his elbows on the table. A quick look at Hermione's plate showed him that she had fared not much better than him, only a small bite taken from her muffin, and her porridge sitting untouched.

"Heard that Potter finally cracked." Malfoy's snarky voice rang out loudly behind the two. "He was left at Mungo's with the rest of the nutters."

Ron stood up loudly, shoving back his chair with force. He glared coldly at Malfoy, and Hermione stood steadily next to him. "Shut up, Malfoy." Ron ordered.

"What's wrong, Weasley?" Malfoy taunted. "Don't have your scarred freak to attract attention? Don't worry, you always stood in his shadow, anyway. Nothing's changed."

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" Fred taunted as he stood from his seat across from Ron, real anger showing on his face. George stood next to him, finishing his retort for him. "So desperate for attention that you pick on someone who isn't even here to defend himself?"

"And why exactly isn't he here?" Malfoy questioned. Murmurs ran throughout the breakfast fall, the students whispered to one another. "Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, locked up with all the psychos at St. Mungo's."

"Harry's twice the man you'll ever be!" A high, nervous voice called out from down the hall. More whispers broke out as Neville stood up, face red with anger. "He's faced more danger in a few years than you'll see in your whole life! And he's come out on top."

"On top?" Malfoy laughed. "Your precious idol is locked in a padded room, drugged up to his glasses, muttering to himself. Face it, Longbottom, Harry Potter-"

"Deserves more respect than to be gossiped about over jam and toast." Dumbledore's voice rang out over the dining hall, heard clearing by all. The students looked to the main doors, and Dumbledore stared back, eyes cold and grim for once. He made his way up to the podium, as the whispers died out. Malfoy, red in the face, cast one more snarky glance at the Weasleys, before slinking off to his table with his greasy entourage.

Ron reluctantly sat down, and Hermione took her seat even more slowly, glaring icy daggers at Malfoy's retreating back.

"I so badly want to curse him." She muttered, her fingers curling around her wand as she spoke.

Ron smiled maliciously. "I won't stop you." He encouraged her. "In fact, I might help out."

Dumbledore cleared his throat slightly, and all noise in the Great Hall ceased. All eyes fixed upon him. "Harry Potter is not in any immediate danger. He is safe, and being cared for. He is not, to quote Mr. Malfoy, 'in a padded room, drugged up to his glasses,'" Dumbledore glared in the direction of the Slytherin table when tittering broke out. The laughing ceased when they caught his eyes. "Know that he has not been well, and has gone through a terrible ordeal. He has suffered alone, when he should have had the help of friends."

Ginny sobbed lightly beside them, and Hermione wrapped a comforting arm around her. Ron felt sick to his stomach. Harry had never revealed anything was amiss in his letters. Ron had offered that Harry should come to stay, but Harry had refused, claiming that everything was exceptionally pleasant at Privet Drive, and he was content to stay where he was for now. At the time, Ron had taken the note for what it seemed at face value. Just a simple letter from a friend, saying everything was fine.

To be honest, Ron had been scared to admit it for what it was. A plea for help. Maybe subconscious, but still a plea for help. By overstating how great everything was, Harry had been hoping that Ron would get suspicious. Which, due to his blinding fear, he never did. A quick glance at his older brothers confirmed that they felt the same way he did. Guilty.

"I expect the school to come together in light of this event, and not only welcome Harry without judgement when he returns, but also give him room, and not bombard him with questions that he may be unable to answer." With a piercing gaze around the room, he nodded in conclusion. "You may continue your meal."

Dumbledore walked down from the podium, and the conversation broke out in a loud babble once again. The elder wizard slid down the aisle, until he reached Ron and Hermione.

"You two should come with me." He said. He looked to Ginny, and said with a smile, "You may accompany us as well, Miss Weasley."

Ginny nodded, and stood, wiping her eyes. Across the table, the twins stood simultaneously, and began walking toward the exit.

"I suppose it wouldn't be prudent to ask them to stay behind, is it?" Dumbledore confirmed with the old twinkle in his eye.

Ron shook his head. "Not even a possibility." He said with a wry smile that didn't quite manage to reach his eyes.

When Harry opened his eyes again, it was bright inside the large room. Glancing to the side, he saw other patients lightly dozing, eating breakfast, talking with a visitor, or even standing up and stretching. Harry longed to stretch out his legs, but with a wary look at the edge of the bed, decided not to chance it. He eased himself into a sitting position, and cautiously, stretched his arms out in front of him.

"Harry." A low voice to his side said. Looking over, his heart dropped to his stomach. Sirius sat, his hands folded tersely.

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it again, coloring with shame. He stared down at the blankets, his heart pounding furiously.

"I'm not angry, Harry." Sirius said gently.

Harry nodded, not speaking, watching his hands run over the smooth fabric of the blanket.

"I'm not." Sirius repeated. "I'm just...sad...that you didn't tell me."

"You don't need to talk to me like I'm four." Harry said tensely. "I get it, you're disappointed. I can still comprehend grown up talk."

"No, Harry, I'm not disappointed with you." Sirius promised. "It's myself that I'm upset with."

Harry looked up slightly, and averted his eyes back to the floor quickly. "Why?" He asked quietly. "You didn't do anything."

"Exactly." Sirius said in exasperation. "I didn't do anything. I should have seen it. I should have been there."

"It's not your job to protect me." Harry deadpanned. He'd had the words memorized in his head for what he would say when everyone found out.

"That's the thing, Harry." Sirius sighed. "It is my job. As your godfather, and as your friend."

Harry smiled slightly. This hadn't been in his imagined script. "What could you have done if you had known?" He questioned.

"Killed him." Sirius said simply. The smile vanished from Harry's face. He looked back to the bedspread. Sirius sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry, I should have been more careful with my words, I just-"

"No, it's fine." Harry said quickly. "It's not like I care about him really, he was just doing what he had to. I was only-"

"WHAT HE HAD TO?!" Sirius exploded. Harry flinched as Sirius launched to his feet, towering over Harry. "What in the blazes do you mean by that?!"

"Sirius, please." Harry faltered, hating the sudden fear he harbored. "Please stop."

Immediately Sirius sank to the floor, kneeling by Harry's bed. "Harry, tell me that you don't believe that you deserved those beatings…"

Harry didn't answer. I killed Cedric. He thought accusingly. I couldn't stop Voldemort from rising. I let Wormtail use me to raise him. I could have stopped him. I should have stopped him.

"Harry…" Sirius's voice came out as a moan, and Harry looked at his godfather in alarm. He had his head cradled in his hands.

"I should have been there…" Sirius muttered to himself. "I should have stopped that monster…I should have protected you…"

"It wasn't your fault." Harry tried to assure him. "It was mine. I didn't listen. I didn't-"

"NO!" Sirius shouted. "No." He repeated firmly. "You can't believe that, Harry. No matter the circumstances, he never had the right to lay a hand on you."

Harry nodded, but it was purely instinctual, there was no effort behind the motion. Desperately, Sirius gripped Harry's hands. Harry flinched in surprise, but didn't pull away.

"Harry, your uncle is a cruel and vile human being. I would even hesitate to classify him as a human being at all. You cannot let him have any more hold over you." Sirius insisted.

Just then, the door to the large room opened, and Harry's nurse walked in, escorting Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry felt a flash of panic. They couldn't be here. They couldn't see him like this. He looked at Sirius in distress, but Sirius only stood up, and took a step back.

"Glad to see you up." Harry's nurse said with a smile. Now, Harry was lucid and calm enough to notice a small name tag that read "Marcy Abbot".

Harry nodded tightly, avoiding eye contact with his friends. Nurse Abbot gently laid a comforting hand on Harry's arm and smiled. "Call if you need anything, okay?" Harry nodded again, and she walked over to the other side of the room, to check on another patient.

Dumbledore sighed. "Let's not make this harder than it has to be. Harry, we know what you've been through, and you should know that we aren't here to judge or complicate things. We're here to help you."

Harry nodded, while tightly biting his tongue. Dumbledore smiled, and pulled Sirius to the side. Ron and Hermione stepped forward, so that they were closer.

"You really scared us, Harry." Hermione said in her accusatory way, that told Harry how worried she had been.

"Glad you seem...better, though, mate." Ron added awkwardly. Harry bit his tongue harder. Things didn't used to be this strange between the three of them. He found himself wishing that no one had found out.

"So, what?" Harry looked up to see the Weasley twins trekking in, with Ginny in tow. "You're just going to be mute, now?" Fred said.

"Seems like a boring lifestyle choice, if you ask us." George added.

"Course, we love to talk." Fred said, taking a seat in one of the chairs beside his bed.

"All the time, actually." George finished brightly, bringing a smile to Harry's face.

"Obviously." Hermione retorted, her usual sophisticated air, and the tension went out of the area.

They started talking, Harry tenderly at first, mostly about nothing. School, teachers, mutual hatred for Snape. Finally Ginny brought up that morning.

"You should have seen it, Harry." Ginny said with a grin at her brothers. "Professor Dumbledore told off Malfoy."

"In front of the entire school." Ron added.

"It was pretty fantastic." The twins said in unison.

"Would have loved to be there." Harry laughed. "What was his face like?"

"Like a donkey spit up a slug which gave birth to him, same as usual." George supplied. Fred nudged him with an elbow, sniggering quietly.

"You should have seen the git, Harry. His face was red as a tomato." Fred laughed. "Looked like he was sucking on a lemon."

"That's normal for Malfoy." Hermione said with a smile. "I think he's been around his horrid mother too long. She always has that expression on."

Harry laughed again, feeling more free than he had in a while. He felt as if a large pressure had been lifted from his chest, leaving him weightless. Looking around at his friends, rallied around him, he couldn't help but feel that he had been gravely mistaken. He had thought that if he told anyone, they would look at him differently. He had thought that the relationship that he had with his friends would have to be sacrificed if he wanted escape from his uncle's violence. However, he could see now, that he had been wrong. Very, very wrong.

Reluctantly, Dumbledore collected his friends. Harry felt oddly left behind as they walked away, even though he knew that he would be returning to school, hopefully, in no time.

Nurse Abbot crossed the room to his bed as his friends left. "Nice visit?" She asked with a smile. Harry nodded bashfully, suddenly embarrassed with how he acted the day before.

"Hey, I'm sor-" He started, but Nurse Abbot held up a hand.

"Let me stop you right there." She said sternly. "My job is to help people get better, Harry. If you're better, than that is all the apology or thank you that I want."

Harry smiled. "Sure." He agreed. "When will I be able to go to school?"

"My best guess?" Nurse Abbot looked up, thinking. "Probably by tomorrow. Healer Calstrom wants to take another quick look at your shoulder, to ensure it healed properly, and to make sure your fever's gone down." She leaned forward, pressing her palm to his forehead. "It does seem better."

Harry nodded, suddenly sick at the prospect of seeing everyone at school. He closed his eyes nervously. If what his friends had said was true, then Hogwarts' halls were buzzing with rumours of where the great Harry Potter was. If they found out that he was stuck in a hospital, after some kind of breakdown from all the summers of abuse…

"Harry." Harry opened his eyes to see Nurse Abbot smiling at him kindly. "I think you'll find that even if strangers will judge you, your true friends are the ones whose will stand by you, even when things get rough."

He nodded, and sighed to himself. He had the feeling that it was going to be a long day.

"Harry?" Nurse Abbot came to a stop next to his bed. "Healer Calstrom wants to have a word with you."

Harry nodded. He slipped from bed, hesitating in case the charm was still in effect, and followed Nurse Abbot into a smaller examination room, identical to the one had been in for his physical.

"Wait here for a moment." She said with an open smile, and softly closed the door on her exit.

Harry sat on the cot, placing his head in his hands. This coddling was beginning to fray his nerves. How was he supposed to stay strong, keep up the facade, when people knew about his past? He had tried so hard to conceal the old wounds, even attempting to heal a few of them himself, so that no one would find out.

"Harry?" Healer Calstrom walked through the door, breaking into Harry's thoughts. Harry smiled briefly in greeting, but stayed seated.

"Look, son, I'm going to be straight with you." Healer Calstrom said, taking a seat next to him. "We have to file an official report about this incident. We also have to give a report to the muggle authorities, in order to remove guardianship from your aunt and uncle."

Harry felt slightly sick, but he forced himself to nod. "What do you need me to do?" He asked hoarsely.

"For the moment, all we need is evidence." Healer Calstrom said. "Proof that the abuse took place."

"What kind of evidence?" Harry asked, with a pit of fear in his stomach.

"Pictures," Healer Calstrom said gently. "Of your scars and such."

Harry's eyes widened. "P-pictures?" He stuttered.

"Yes." Healer Calstrom sat quietly for a moment, letting the information sink in. "It should only take ten minutes or so, and you can go back to rest."

Harry clenched his eyes closed for a moment, squeezing the edge of the cot tightly with his hands. "Sure." He spit out. Healer Calstrom put a comforting hand on his shoulder for a minute, and then stepped out, leaving Harry alone with his panic.

Harry heard his breath begin to come in gasps, as his fear reclaimed him. The old instinct to run gripped him tightly, and he held onto the cot in order to keep him in his seat. He felt that if he relaxed, even for a second, he would make a break for it, and he had no desire to be force-fed another sleeping potion.

His body was riddled with scars, from knives, belts, a letter opener, and one was a souvenir from a nail gun. Uncle Vernon hadn't been very particular with his weapon of choice when he became drunk and angry. Not that he had to be drunk to be angry. He had managed to work up quite a rage, even on nights when he was sober.

Then there were the thin, small scars on his wrists, from nights when the pain had been too much, the fear too great, the humiliation too painful. He had sworn never to let people see, never let them uncover the truth. How could he just let this happen? It went against everything he had ever promised himself.

The door to the small room opened, and Harry felt a burst of panic run through his body, sending adrenaline shooting through his limbs. Harry shot to his feet, panting slightly, and relaxed when he saw Nurse Abbot.

"Oh, sweetie." She sighed, stepping into the room. Gratefully, Harry sunk back onto the cot, holding his head in his hands.

"I don't think I can do this." He whispered desperately. "I can't do this."

Nurse Abbot sat down next to him, and placed her arm around him, protectively holding him close. "Shh, Harry." She soothed. "Everything will be fine."

"I can't do this." He repeated frantically. He looked hysterically at her. "How can I do this?!"

"Harry, breathe." She looked intently at him. "Deep breath, okay?" She took a few deep breaths as an example, and gradually, Harry followed her example.

"There you go." Nurse Abbot said calmly. "That's better." She looked him in the eye. "Harry, you can do this. You know how I know?" She asked.

Harry shook his head mutely.

"Because in the short time that I've known you, you've shown more courage than most would in your position." She murmured.

Harry glowered at the ground. "Right. I've had panic attacks, and passed out, and…" He trailed off, silently loathing his weakness.

"No, Harry, your courage comes from the fact that you don't give up. Nothing has gotten the best of you yet." Nurse Abbot said quietly. "This won't either."

Harry smiled weakly, but thankfully, in her direction. The door opened for a second time, and Healer Calstrom walked in, with another wizard by his side.

"Harry, this is Philip Bolstrode." He introduced.

Harry nodded numbly. He didn't want to know who the man was, or why he was there. He just wanted to get this over with. Nurse Abbot helped him remove his shirt, and Harry heard a sharp inhale by the two men standing behind him.

To his horror, he felt his eyes begin to fill with tears, for the first time since this all began. The urge to run grew inside him, until the only thing keeping him in place was the fear to move. He felt scared to move, scared to stay still, scared to cry, scared to stay silent.

"Harry, look at me." He looked up to see Nurse Abbott gently take his hands. "Be strong, okay?"

Unable to speak, he dipped his head, and ignored the men behind him, talking quietly, and taking picture after picture. He focused on Nurse Abbot's soft voice, murmuring softly to him comforting words, and her strong grip holding his hands tightly.

Finally, it was over, and Nurse Abbot eased his shirt back over his head. She pulled him into a hug, whispering softly. "It's over, Harry." She said. "It's over."

Harry gripped Uncle Vernon's large, meaty hands as he was slammed violently against the wall. The large man leaned close, the alcohol on his breath. "You worthless freak." He hissed, slamming him again against the wall.

Desperately, Harry tore away from the hands, and ran for the door. He felt his uncle grab his arm, and spin him around.

Harry felt paralyzed with fear when he was faced not with the red face of his uncle, but the pale, snake-like eyes of Voldemort. He cackled, his fingers gripping Harry's arm tightly, like a vice. Voldemort's free hand reached up and locked around Harry's throat, and a searing pain split through his head.

Around the corner, Cedric watched impassively. "Cedric." Harry gasped. "Please, help."

Cedric watched without moving. "You didn't save me." He accused. His piercing eyes bored mercilessly into Harry. "You didn't save me. I won't save you." With that, he faded away.

"No one to save Harry Potter." Voldemort became Uncle Vernon again, gripping Harry's throat tightly. "No one cares about The Boy Who Lived. What if he was The Boy Who Died?" Harry fought for air, gasping, as his strength faded, and he was left struggling futilely, as Uncle Vernon's guffaw transformed into Lord Voldemort's high, cruel cackle.

Harry jerked awake, his heart pounding furiously. He thrashed for a moment, disoriented, until a clear voice cut through his panic.

"Harry, it's okay, calm down." Nurse Abbot held onto his uninjured shoulder, bringing him back to earth. He stared up at her, uncomprehending, as his panic faded, and he began to make sense of his surroundings.

"You're safe, Harry." She soothed him. Relieved, he layed back for a moment. She smoothed over the hair on his forehead, and he closed his eyes, trying to settle his frantic heart.

They sat for a minute or two, Nurse Abbot waiting patiently. Gradually, Harry sat up, shuddering when he recalled his dream.

"Better?" She asked. He nodded silently. Nurse Abbot handed him a paper cup, filled with water, which he drank gratefully.

"Harry, you should sleep for a few more hours, if you can." Nurse Abbot said. "You can return to school in the morning, if you wish."

Harry hesitated, but nodded. The return wouldn't be made easier if he stalled. In fact, the longer he was gone, the more questions people would have.

"What do I say?" He asked Nurse Abbot desperately. "When everyone wants to know what happened?"

"What happened is no one's business except for yours." She said firmly. "You don't need to say anything."

"Right, but if I don't say anything, people will just spin rumours about what happened, probably worse than it actually is." Harry griped.

"Then tell them something vague and simple." Nurse Abbot concluded. "Give them enough to shut them up, but not so much that they know everything."

Exhausted, Harry nodded. Nurse Abbot smiled, gently urging him back to bed. She slipped the covers over him, brushed his hair once more.

"Good night, Harry." She whispered, before returning to her other duties.

Harry felt paralyzed, staring at the doors in front of him. All he had to do was walk through them. A simple act in theory. Walk forward, and push them open. However, he was finding it exceedingly difficult in practice.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione stepped up next to him.

"Sure, Hermione, just…" Whatever retort he had been about to use died on his tongue.

"'S'all right, mate, take your time." Ron said good naturedly. He smirked. "Course, we do have exams in about a month, so.."

"Shut up." Harry said shortly, but he smiled to let his friend know that the insult didn't really matter.

"Come on, you two." Hermione said with a laugh. "If we don't hurry, we'll be late to class."

"Well, then the world will really end, won't it?" Ron laughed, and the two stepped forward. After a brief pause, Harry forced himself to follow them, his heart pounding loudly.

They stepped through the doors together, and for a moment, Harry could almost believe that it was the beginning of the year again, and they were entering the school for the first time in two months.

And then the moment ended. As they walked through the halls, people gave them a wide berth. The younger kids stared in awe, while older students glared in suspicion and curiosity. Harry ducked his head, and pretended not to see the stares.

They reached the common room, and Harry felt slightly relieved, until he saw that it was as silent as the rest of the castle. Conversations ceased as he walked to the center of the room. Harry paused, his heart pounding. This wasn't the first time he had been the center of negative attention, but this was a topic that he wanted to steer very clear of, and it didn't appear that his schoolmates were going to let it go.

Suddenly, two identical figures came rushing at him. They tackled him in a giant group hug, speaking quickly.

"Harry!" Fred greeted him in excitement. "Great to see you back."

"Horrible time to fall ill." George agreed. "Convenient we were at St. Mungo's when it happened."

Some of the other Gryffindors smiled at each other, and gradually, the babble rose back up.

"Thanks." Harry said to the twins. "I appreciate it."

"No problem." They said in unison.

Harry grinned, and headed up to the boys dormitory. He collapsed back on his bed, his mind frantically running over everything that had happened. Was it possible that the entire ordeal was over? Would everyone really buy the excuse that Harry had just been a little under the weather? Harry smiled at the prospect.

Surprised at how exhausted he was, he layed back on the bed, and closed his eyes, dozing off to the sounds of his home.

Harry woke to someone shaking him. He jerked up, and Ron jumped away, holding his hands up.

"Sorry," He apologized. "I didn't think you wanted to miss lunch."

"Definitely not." Harry agreed, and he sat up quickly, pulling on his school robes. "How long was I out?" He asked hesitantly.

"Only a few hours." Ron shrugged, leaning against the wall. "McGonagall said to let you sleep."

Harry stopped, his eyes wide. "Professor McGonagall? She said that?"

"I think she's getting soft." Hermione appeared, smiling. "Are you two coming?"

"Sure, once Harry stops stalling." Ron teased.

Harry smiled. "You two go on." He said. "I'll only be a minute."

"You okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry assured her. "I just...need a minute."

She smiled softly, before pulling Ron out the door.

Harry sat on the bed, and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, checking his emotions. He opened his eyes and smiled. He felt fine. Not afraid, not nervous.

And honestly, what was there to be nervous about? After the excuse the Weasley twins had given, who would doubt his story?

What could possibly go wrong?

Harry exited the common room quickly, and glanced around for Hermione and Ron. He headed for the Great Hall, but was cut off when Malfoy appeared from a corridor to his left. Harry halted, dreading this encounter, as any meeting with Malfoy usually ended badly.

"Feeling better, Potter?" Malfoy spat, crossing his arms.

"Fine, thanks." Harry said calmly, attempting to walk past.

"Not so fast, Potter." Malfoy said, and Crabbe shoved Harry back a few steps. A small crowd, growing larger by the second, began to form around them, made up of students on their way to lunch. The Slytherins snickered to themselves, dispersed amongst the crowd. Harry glared angrily at Malfoy, hatred burning in his core.

"Can't believe St. Mungos let you out." Malfoy retorted. "I would've pegged you for a long term patient."

"Get out of my way, Malfoy." Harry said in a low voice. Malfoy laughed.

"Really? Or what?" He taunted. Harry's fingers curled around his wand, which was deep in his pocket. "You going to curse me?"

"Maybe I will." Harry said coolly.

"Right," Malfoy said, disbelieving. "If you can't defend yourself against unarmed muggles, how're you going to stop me?"

Harry went cold. How did he know? And by the look Malfoy was giving him, he did know. He knew too much. The students surrounding them whispered uncertainly amongst themselves. They cast doubtful glances at both parties.

"Oh, you didn't tell them?" Malfoy glanced curiously around the hall. "I suppose the great Harry Potter couldn't have his image scarred with that ugly piece of knowledge, could he? After all, that scar," Malfoy pointed to his forehead. "Brought you fame. This scar would certainly tear it all away." He grinned viciously. "Or should I say, scars."

Harry felt sick. The muttering around them grew louder, and people began to watch Malfoy with rapt interest.

"I didn't quite buy Dumbledore's rubbish about your being sick. It was obviously a cover for something." He started, a hard glint in his eye. "I wrote to my father. He was only too eager to give me the details."

It was like another one of Harry's nightmares. Anytime now, he was going to wake up. He had to wake up.

Malfoy turned to the crowd. "Apparently, Potter wasn't kept at Mungo's for an illness." He informed them. "He was kept because he cracked." Malfoy looked back at Harry, grinning maliciously.

He laughed cruelly. "Turns out you weren't exaggerating how horrible your muggles were, Potter. They were worse than you let on."

"Honestly, though, Potter, it didn't sound to me like you tried very hard to stop them." Malfoy teased. "You just stood there, and let them hurt you. Let them hit you, and beat you, over and over and over, didn't you, Potter?" Harry heard exclamations from the students as the full implications of Malfoy's accusations sank in.

"Stop it." Harry finally found his voice. It was quiet, but strong. He heard gasps from the crowd around them as they realized that what Malfoy was saying was true.

"The great Harry Potter, beaten by muggles." Malfoy sneered.

Harry swallowed nervously, but held his ground. He glared at Malfoy, silently vowing to get revenge.

"Face it, Potter," Malfoy laughed. "You aren't what you pretend to be. You're a fake, a coward."

With every word, Harry felt himself slipping back to past summers spent at the Dursleys. The fear, the self loathing, the resentment washed around him until it was difficult to distinguish his emotions from those that had been thrust upon him by violent acts.

"You're worth nothing."

"Nobody cares about the boy who lived."

"You might as well die."

"Harry is the bravest person I know." A girl stepped through the crowd, pushing her way to the center, to stand next to Harry. Ginny. "Braver than you." She spat at Malfoy. "You disgusting coward."

Malfoy sneered at her. "What does your opinion matter, you filthy little blood traitor."

Ginny didn't respond, only took Harry's hand. He glanced down at her in shock, but she merely smiled at him. He felt his heart warm, and some of the negative emotions faded.

"Harry defeated You-Know-Who." Luna Lovegood drifted through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Harry and Ginny. "I'd say he's earned our respect." Luna said in her airy way.

"Great job, Potter." Malfoy jeered. "You have the support of a blood traiter and a nutter."

"Luna's my friend. And so is Harry." Neville stepped forward nervously.

"No matter what he's been through, Harry's a good bloke." Seamus walked over, voicing his support.

"You don't have the right to criticize him about his family, Malfoy," Cho said as she stepped forward. "Just look at your own family."

Malfoy stared at the small group that was assembled around Harry, fury lighting in his eyes. Having lost the support of his audience, Malfoy slinked backwards. "Have fun with your muggles, Potter," Malfoy spat angrily, before tugging Crabbe and Goyle off, barely maintaining his dignity.

Harry looked around at his odd assortment of friends, and his heart felt warmer. They knew. They knew, and they didn't care. Not all of the students were as unaffected, of course. As the hallway cleared out, most of the students cast piteous glances his way, and many of them avoided looking at him at all.

"Harry!" Hermione came sprinting down the hallway, frantically dodging other students and shoving aside any Slytherins in her path. When Hermione reached him, she pounced, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "We waited outside for you, but Filch saw us and made us go to the Great Hall, and then we kept waiting for you to show up, but you didn't, and we just saw Malfoy go past, and there were kids talking about you and they know what happened and I know you didn't want anyone to know and I nearly let myself kill Malfoy, oh I was sooo tempted, he looked so smug and pretentious, and I just wanted to wipe that smirky little grin off of his stupid, moronic-"

"Hermione, calm down." Harry pushed her back gently, halting her rambling. "I'm fine."

Ron came running down the hall, gasping in exertion. "Merlin's beard, Hermione, how do you run that fast?" He complained, planting his hands on his knees. "You...good...Harry?" He asked slowly, catching his breath. He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "I wouldn't mind murdering some Slytherin scum if necessary."

"Alright, Harry?" Fred said, as the twins came up behind Ron, concern etched on their normally comical faces.

Harry looked at his friends; those that he'd had for years, those that he'd made briefly, and those that he'd never thought would be on his side. No matter how bad things got, he felt that he could trust them. Harry felt his heart warm, and he smiled.

"Yeah," He said. "Yeah, I'm alright."

Mmph. Not sure about the ending...kind of abrupt. What do you think? Any thoughts?

Also, just as a kind of disclaimer, the Argararius Charm mentioned briefly was made up by me. I don't think it was created by J. K. Rowling, or was in any of the movies. So, I guess, I own it, (maybe? I'm not sure how that really works) but I don't care if you use it in any fanfics of yours. However, I would appreciate it if you could put in a mention of who thought it up, or at least not claim credit of thinking of it.

Not trying to be a jerk, I swear.

Any reviews you leave would be great. : )

Cheers!